Friends Don't hold Each Other Like That
by summerlove1
Summary: (Originally a fic request for Stydia Fanfiction) Malia sees Lydia/Stiles cuddling in the hospital bed after the events in 5x04 and she begins to ask everyone how much Stiles really cares about Lydia and they all go into great detail forgetting that Malia and Stiles are still dating.


I was in her hospital room, staring at the four dark walls. She breathed in a perfect slow rhythm - slightly drugged on tablets, I assumed - yet even in her sleep her face would grimace at the sharp pain that would rise from her waist. I imagined, because how could I know?, that Lydia's body burned like fire and her gasps for air were poisoned by ash. I had not known extensive physical pain. I was not human, but neither was she.

I had learnt that she was in pain because I knew what pain looked like. I had seen it on the faces of so many. I saw it on My Dad's, I saw it on Scott's, I saw it on Kira's, I saw it on Stiles - I smelt it on Stiles, and Lydia smelt just like him. That may have to do with his old grey jersey wrapping around her hurting body like a shield I suppose, like an anchor - because isn't that what Stiles is to her?

Sit - maybe I should sit. Treading softly over to a table I carefully pulled out the accompanying chair and sat facing her, careful not to wake her, for what explanation would I have but the burning pain in my chest that tightened my throat? I thought - I had hoped - seeing her would give me some accomplishment. Reassurance that I was wrong; but how could I be wrong after all the words that were spoken in their favour? Seeing her now, I had no defence.

But, God, I loved him. I loved him like the woods loves the quiet, how the fields love the rain; and I thought we were two beings fitting perfectly in natures circle. How personal bias distorts emotions, and how emotions distorts rationality. I wondered, did she love him too, like I did? Did she imagine his lips against hers, or his arms wrapped around her waist, our love in her veins? Did she imagine everything I had? Did she crave the way I had him? - his fingerprints on my body, because what a grave misfortune, when I craved the way she had him, with her fingerprints on his heart.

I wondered what Lydia was thinking in that brain of hers. I could see her, and in the subtle sort of darkness I saw everything I am not: I saw this beautiful girl who he fell in love with, who is shining even now in the isolated of the hours. Her intelligence, her kindness, her loyalty, her beauty, her flawless character; it reflected me as the pauper. I am the thunderstorm and she is the sun. I understand it, who can hate the sun? The source of life - I don't. Worst of all, I have discovered, I am not the protagonist of my own love story. No, I am not even significant. I am the obstacle. I am the impediment.

It is easier to take to staring at my fingers, so that is what I do, counting them like Stiles taught. Did he teach her? It is the questioning that intensifies the ache in my body. It was hard to remember how to breathe, when he had taught me everything I knew. My heart stung at the belief that all the moments that Stiles had spent with me were an excuse not to be with her. When he talked in his sleep, when I had mistaken her name for the names of the pack. He loved her, her loves her -

He loves me. He told me so.

If he loves me, then why does she sleep in his arms? She was where my heart lies, and I realise, I am where she had stood for over a year. There he sleeps next to her in the hospital bed, his arm lying over her and her body cradling it. At some hazed moment, she had interlocked her numb fingers in his. God, he looked so peaceful, any one would assume that they were dating and that I was the intruder. I was the intruder.

I had not the rationality to leave when I had first saw them. I did not have the heart to disturb them. Now I had the energy to walk out of the door, but I did not have the energy to leave him. Every step I took was broken. I could fumble for the door and close it peacefully behind me, but I could not bring my mind back to the light of the hallway. People walked past, they had blurred faces. They had blurred hands and legs and their blurred anonymity reflected my face I am sure.

"Malia?" Scott. "I didn't know you went in there."

"They're sleeping" It is more of a statement than a reply for I am not staring at his face but at the closest sign I could find. No visitors past 8pm. Irrelevant, since it was close to midnight. How long had he been lying with her? How long had he been lying with her when he was sleeping next to me? Suddenly, Scott's face was next to mine so clear I saw the resemblance of a fading scar on his cheek.

"Come sit down with us." He led me with his loose grip of my hand to a plastic little chair next to where Liam and Kira sat, and she took my hand and squeezed it, like it was I who had been stabbed.

"He cares about her, it's sweet." Because, who am I kidding? It was the calmest I had ever seen them.

"He cares about you." Kira spoke.

"I know he does." I mean it. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't care about her." I looked at them both. Maybe I am irrational, because every emotion in my body tells me to demand what they know; and yet every nerve is begging my bones to run, to run to the woods and along the rivers away from him. "You see it. Don't lie to me, I can tell." It does not sound like me who is addressing them, but I was frantic, my heart was racing.

"I can tell" Scott spoke, leaning back on his chair, and I noticed the stern look that Kira gave him. "He has cared about her since third grade. I don't think it is so one sided anymore."

I counted my fingers.

"He looks at her like…" I whispered, unable to voice what stung my tongue.

"Like she is the sun in the morning." Whilst Scott spoke he stared intently at me. "But when he stares at you -"

"He sees nothing but eyes, I know Scott." I don't want to seem brave. I want to cry floods and oceans, but I have never dealt with such emotions before. I can't make the tears fall.

"That's not true." I don't feel the certainty.

"When I first met them I thought they were dating-" One look from Kira cut off Liam's sentence. I know Kira had thought it too, because I could hear her heartbeat rise when she smiled at me. Scott tried again trying to ignore what Liam said.

"What they have, Malia, is something different. He has this need to protect her - like I have with all of you - and when he saw her like that, dying on the floor - part of his mind stopped thinking. That doesn't mean he doesn't want to be with you any less. He's not thinking." Kira nodded at this.

"We love you" She added, as if it is some consolation prize.

"I know. I know you do. I'm going to take a walk" He shouldn't have to think. I stood up and they try to persuade me to stay. "I really need to be alone." I looked at Kira, and I know she understood.

"I'm going to call you later, okay?" She spoke and I mumble some ort of reply.

I created a lap around the hospital and I walked it one, two, three times before I stopped to hear the sound of Scott and Kira leaving he hospital. Of course, I had to go back, and I had to see them, and see why part of his heart rested with her sleeping body. I understood - I do - I am smart, and I am beautiful, and I am kinder than I was before I met him. I understand that I am not in competition with her. Stepping back inside the room I took the seat again, and I leant forward and rested my head on the tips of my cold fingers. Friends don't share the same bed. Friends don't hold each other like that. Joined between them was the grasp of a moment, a past memory that revisited them together, and they found solace in each other. In his lingering grasp of her body, in her breath that warms the arch of his neck, they don't feel the fault in something that falls so naturally to them. They were haunted by the same ghosts - I could not empathise because the ghosts that haunted me had different faces and different scars. I could only realise that she could love him in a heartbeat, and that he could love her back, and know that neither would accept that the other one could love them so. They ran in parallels never crossing, like the sun and the moon, only catching glimpses of the others light. I wanted them to wake up. I wanted him to know that I saw. I wanted her to deny that there is anything between them. Most of all I wanted to tell her not to take him away from me, even though he would want her to, and even though she easily could, because I didn't want to face life alone just yet. I didn't want to be alone again.

I didn't want to lose my pack.


End file.
